


i'll see you then

by noyabeans (snowdrops)



Series: writing with snowdrops (timeskip arc) [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Growing Up, M/M, Missing Scene, Miya Atsumu's Single Brain Cell, POV Alternating, Post-High School, Rival Relationship, Shippy Gen, Spoilers, mentions of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans
Summary: Nishinoya Yuu and Miya Atsumu build a rivalry and something more.“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.Contains spoilers for the current manga arc, up to chapter 380.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Nishinoya Yuu, Miya Atsumu/Nishinoya Yuu
Series: writing with snowdrops (timeskip arc) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608889
Comments: 6
Kudos: 173





	i'll see you then

**Author's Note:**

> "Dude, you are the **_best_**."

It’s their third year of high school, their last game as Karasuno. Bending over, Nishinoya presses his palms to his burning thighs, takes a deep breath. It’s welling up, the disappointment, but now is not the time for it. He feels a hand on his back.

“Let’s line up, Nishinoya,” Chikara says, the command soft but firm. Nishinoya _knows_. Losing is as much a part of volleyball as winning is. But still. But _still_. To see the ball just fall before his eyes like that— to know this is the end—

At the net, Miya Atsumu looms. Nishinoya makes towards him, looks up.

“You’re a crazy player,” he says, stretching out his hand. He means it — all the anger, disappointment, frustration that lie heavy and bitter on his tongue are the proof. “I’m glad we got to play again.”

Miya takes his hand, giving it a firm shake. He’s grinning, but his eyes are sharp, devoid of any humour as he looks at Nishinoya. “As if you’re not equally crazy, Karasuno’s #4? I don’t think I’ve ever met a libero as stubborn as you.”

That actually draws a laugh out of Nishinoya. “You’re one to talk about stubborn, what the heck! I couldn’t even get a bunch of your plays! If we ever play again, I’m going to pick them all up.”

“Huuuh, big talk,” Miya smirks. “I’ll wait for you at the V-League then.”

It’s a challenge. Nishinoya accepts it with a grin and a heart that feels a little lighter.

* * *

The next time they meet is a full year later, at the Spring High once more. It’s Kageyama and Shouyou’s last high school tournament; they’re playing the semifinals on center court, so Nishinoya’s taking a stroll around the arena to stretch his legs before the match.

He doesn’t expect to run straight into Miya Atsumu. “Oh, hey,” Miya says, recognition flashing on his features. “Karasuno’s libero, right?”

“That’s Nishinoya Yuu to ya,” Nishinoya says. Inarizaki got eliminated from the quarterfinals yesterday, but he’s not really surprised that Miya’s here today. “You’re playing with the Asahi Wolves, right?”

“You sure are caught up, aren’t you?” Miya says without missing a beat. “M’bad, I don’t know where you’re playing now.”

“I’m playing the college circuit at Tohoku University,” Nishinoya says, grinning. “Not on the V-League yet.”

“Hu~uh, always thought you were gonna hit the pro circuit immediately. Doesn’t it feel a bit like a waste for ya to be spending time in uni?”

Nishinoya laughs, wagging a finger at him with a glint in his eye. “Ha! You’re missing the whole point, dude! Just you wait till I make it to the League.”

“Sure,” Miya says, raising an eyebrow. “I look forward to that.”

Nishinoya’s phone vibrates then — crap, it’s Chikara and Ryuu asking where he is. “Hey, I gotta go, the match’s gonna start.”

“Right, sure—”

“See ya around!”

* * *

Atsumu almost forgets about Nishinoya Yuu until almost two years later, when he’s watching the Intercollegiates with Osamu. Suna’s playing today, and he’d mentioned the last time they hung out that his college team was relatively strong, so Atsumu had figured he could take the chance to scout for new players.

They’re pretty far up in the stands — it’s not like Suna’s hard to spot — and from this distance the players entering the court look like playing pieces. He’s not really caught up with the college circuits, but Suna’s Tokai is considered a relative powerhouse. “So who’s on his team, anyway?” Atsumu asks Osamu, who’s leafing through the game brochure.

Osamu doesn’t answer, just hands him the brochure. “Why don’t you take a look yourself.”

Atsumu skims it, looking more at the faces of the players than at their names themselves — there, Bokuto’s setter in high school, and that one spiker from one of the Kyoto schools Inarizaki had had some regular match set-up with. Decent, he figures, as he turns over to take a cursory look at the opposing team.

“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.

“Hmm,” is all Osamu says.

Tohoku’s not bad, but Tokai is clearly stronger. Even so, the ball stays in the air on Tohoku’s side way longer than it should, just like it had back when Inarizaki played Karasuno. Atsumu knows from first-hand experience how easy it is to grow impatient and frustrated with the constant rallies that Nishinoya pushes the game towards, and Tokai _does_ crack multiple times, losing points with careless slip-ups, even as Nishinoya dives, and dives, and dives for the ball. What incredible pressure that small body exerts.

Suna scores the game point with 32-30, and even from the stands Atsumu feels the pride swell in his chest. Now that’s a blocker he’d used to set for, see! It’s a moment later that he notices that Nishinoya had been off-court, and he finds himself wondering whether the end result might have changed had he been in the game.

“Karasuno's libero’s gotten really good, huh,” Osamu says, so off-handedly that Atsumu almost doesn’t catch the amused lilt in his voice. “You were watching him for almost the whole match.”

Atsumu gapes at him, suddenly forgetting how words work. “Th—” He can’t even deny it.

Osamu stands up and stretches. “He’s gonna go pro, right? Why don’tcha ask him to join the Jackals? Your libero’s transferring out end of next season, right?”

That sounds simultaneously like one of the best and worst ideas Osamu has ever put in his head since they were born. Having Nishinoya as their libero sounds incredible; to have a libero like Nishinoya watching their backs is any team’s dream. But if he’s on Nishinoya’s team, then he won’t get to see Nishinoya struggle and bare his fangs against Atsumu’s serves and sets.

Atsumu’s never been selfless, so he snorts, and says, “As though I can do that when I don’t even have his number.”

Osamu stares at him like he’s grown a second head, then says, deliberately slow, “You realise that you’re playing on a pro team, and you can scout him through official means, right? Who said anything about getting his contact details?”

Atsumu is ready to dig a hole in the ground.

* * *

Half a year later during the off-season, Tohoku University invites the Jackals for an introduction and club promotion session. As luck would have it, Meian-san decides that since he’s the closest in age to the players and more level-headed than Bokuto, Atsumu will go as representative.

Which is how he finds himself here, standing in front of the Tohoku University team, sharing with them the Jackals’ team vision and mission and goals and lineup and all the things they can expect from playing in the pro league, all the while increasingly aware of the sharp gaze he’s being pinned under by Nishinoya, at the back of the group.

He fields a few questions from the team, then obliges when their coach asks him to play a match with them.

When they draw lots, Nishinoya ends up on his team.

“It’s been a while,” Nishinoya says, grinning brightly up at him. “We’ll be in your hands, Atsumu!”

Since when had they been on a first-name basis?

Having Nishinoya at his back is really a whole new experience. Balls are received cleanly then sent to him beautifully, and he can dedicate all his attention to setting to his spiker. Inunaki-san’s an excellent libero, don’t get him wrong, but there’s something about the way that Nishinoya plays that makes Atsumu feel their team is invincible.

They win with a good margin, and he wraps up the session with a quick team debriefing and pointers for improvement, as well as reminding them to sign up for the Jackals’ tryouts.

Just as he’s about to take his leave, Nishinoya jogs up to him. “Are you heading back to Tokyo already?”

“Not tonight,” Atsumu says, glancing at the clock. He’ll stay the night in Sendai then take the morning train out. “Why?”

“Let’s go get dinner,” Nishinoya decides. “Give me ten minutes, will ya!”

He doesn’t give time for Atsumu to answer before dashing off again, leaving Atsumu to stand there bewildered, feeling like he’s just been hit by a sudden hurricane. Dinner isn’t a bad idea though, so he waits.

Nishinoya reappears nine minutes later. “Thanks for waiting! Let’s go, there’s this really good ramen shop near the station, I _love_ their chashu pork and the soup is amazing.” Before Atsumu has even processed what’s happening, he’s being pulled along by the arm, Nishinoya talking a mile a minute.

“Anyway,” Atsumu says, his head pleasantly fuzzy as he takes a gulp from his beer. They don’t even know each other that well, past a couple of matches they played in high school, and yet here they are. How ramen had turned into drinking at an izakaya, he can’t even remember anymore. It doesn’t matter, he decides. “Aren’tcha gonna try for the Jackals?”

Nishinoya certainly looks more put-together than Atsumu feels, though he seems quieter than when they’d first gotten here. “Naaaaah! Wouldn’t be fun, I don’t think.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean! We’re a hella good team, y’know!” Atsumu says, glaring at Nishinoya, who just laughs in his face.

“Dude, you have no idea how many times I saw you serve today and thought about how much I wanted to receive it myself! There’s no way I can ever play on your team, I’d be jealous of our opponents all the time.”

That sounds like some awfully convoluted logic, but it sounds very Nishinoya, somehow. Atsumu snorts into his drink. “‘Kaaay. That’s assuming you can even receive ‘em, though.”

Another laugh. It’s really unfair how Nishinoya doesn’t even sound cocky or arrogant when he’s laughing at him. “I’m not the player you know from Karasuno anymore, Atsumu-kun,” Nishinoya says cheerfully. He sets his glass down, peers at Atsumu. Something in those eyes seems to pierce through the airy haze Atsumu’s mind has settled on — “Man, you look like a badass and all, but you really suck at drinking, huh?”

Atsumu swats at him. “Shuddup.” Osamu’s always been better at drinking than he is. Which brings him back to the point that he has no idea why he’s _drinking_ with Nishinoya Yuu in a random izakaya in Sendai.

Nishinoya snorts. “C’mon, finish that drink then I’ll bring you somewhere to spend the night.”

“Ooh, tryna kidnap me, Noya-kun?”

“You wish.”

Atsumu wakes up the next day to a pounding headache and many regrets. He’s in what looks like a small business hotel; there’s a bottle of water right next to the bed, and his phone is on the table.

The clock reads 8am, he notes as he takes a swig from the bottle. How much did he drink last night? He remembers the izakaya vaguely — telling Nishinoya about the pro circuit, Nishinoya telling him about his university life, but it’s a blur for the most part.

Steeling himself for the glare, he unlocks his phone to find three new messages from various members of the Jackals, including one from Meian-san telling him to come into practice tomorrow instead, and one new message from an unknown nunmber.

He opens the last one.

_Atsumu! Still alive??? Thanks for dinner! You gave me your number, in case you’ve forgotten! You only had one beer btw, you really suck! Check out’s at noon, don’t oversleep! ^^_

He can hear the sunshine in Nishinoya’s voice. The alcohol must still be in his system. Atsumu groans and lies back down.

* * *

The commentators are saying something about how it’s been a long time since the Thunderbirds played the Jackals, and how the Thunderbirds’ new libero is making his V-League debut today, but Atsumu just wants them to cut the crap and start already.

On the opposite side of the court, Nishinoya flashes him a grin. _Bring it at me,_ Atsumu can almost hear him saying.

The ball feels good in his hand today, Atsumu is pleased to find as the whistle blows. _Have at it, Noya-kun_. He throws as much force as he can into his jump floater, directing it to the space just left of Nishinoya. For a moment it looks like it’s going to strike an ace, but in the blink of an eye Nishinoya has moved, and the ball is back in the air. There’s a roar from around the arena, and Atsumu feels his jaw twitch with the promise of a good challenge.

This is war.

They barely win by the skin of their teeth, which is hardly good enough. Atsumu settles in his window seat on the bus, letting himself zone out as he thinks of what he could have done better. It’s his usual post-game routine, but that goes out the window when Ai-chan suddenly says, “I heard that the Thunderbirds’ new libero went to Poland for exchange, but I never thought he’d be this good.”

Atsumu’s head whips around. “ _Poland?_ ” Nishinoya went to _Poland_ for his exchange semester? The country of volleyball powerhouses? How had he never heard of this?

“Why are you surprised, aren’t you friends with him?” Omi-kun says.

“We’re not— ” Atsumu falters. Sure, they text almost every day, trading random snippets of their daily lives and jokes they come across on the internet, but — “We’re not that close, okay!”

He whips out his phone, ready to hammer out a message to Nishinoya, only to find that there’s an unread text already sitting in his inbox.

_That was fun! Your team is crazy strong, can’t wait to play you guys again! By the way!! D’you like curry rice, there’s a place I wanna try!_

Atsumu’s heart absolutely does _not_ skip a beat at the fact that Nishinoya wants to hang out with him outside of volleyball. Why had he taken out his phone again? There was something he’d wanted to ask Nishinoya, right?

* * *

 _You never told me you went to Poland_ , Nishinoya’s phone pings when he’s sprawled out on his bed, muscles still sore from the day’s match. What a perplexing message to receive, especially when he’s certain he had gone into a lot of detail about the hellish drills his host university team had put him through, and all the ridiculously tall spikes he’d had to save, that day in the izakaya. He's also sure he'd specifically mentioned that he went for the college circuit exactly because it would allow him to play internationally without needing to be on the national team. 

His phone pings again.

_And I don’t mind curry rice. I’m free tomorrow, actually._

Well, Nishinoya supposes he can forgive Atsumu’s shoddy drinking.

**Author's Note:**

> “You still didn’t pick up a bunch of my spikes, though.”  
>    
>  “Does that really matter? I managed to pick you up, right?”
> 
> * * *
> 
> You know, sometimes you just want to write a thing, so you write it. This was one of those things.
> 
> [tumblr (rielity)](https://rielity.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (noyabeans)](https://twitter.com/noyabeans) | [haikyuu writing journal](https://noyabeans.dreamwidth.org/)


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